Song of Echoes

by R. E. Palmer

  Toryn filed out after Hamar to be met by a plump, red-faced man. The man held out a hand. ‘Elwold’s the name, retired from the guard twenty-five years passed, now the best cook in Drunsberg, not that it’s saying much in this place. Anyway, it means nothing, because today, gentlemen, we’re all firefighters on this watch.’

  Hamar held out his forearm. ‘Hamar, retired more years than I care to remember.’

  Elwold grasped Hamar’s arm in the same way as the man at the gate. ‘Hamar! The Hamar. Get away. Always a pleasure to meet a brother. Perhaps when this is over, you can amuse the men and let us know which of the tales are actually true.’

  Hamar laughed. ‘Easy. All of them!’

  Elwold’s belly wobbled. ‘Ha! I think you’ll find every teller has embellished them a little over the years.’ He turned to Toryn. ‘Who’s the boy, Hamar? Looks too young to have taken the Oath.’

  Hamar wrapped his arm around Toryn’s shoulders. ‘This is my grandson, Toryn. And we’ll both be honored to join you for a drink when this nonsense is over.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Elwold clasped his enormous hands together. ‘Right! Time for duty.’ He turned and led them to the side of the mountain where three pumps jutted out from the rock. ‘The water comes up from the river beneath the mountain, so plenty to go around. The problem is getting the buckets to where they’re needed.’

  More overweight men stumbled to the pumps, red-faced and gasping for air. Toryn guessed they were the cooks, barkeepers and smiths of Drunsberg. Elwold addressed the unlikely fire crew. ‘The rest of you know the drill, but for the sake of our new recruits.’ He nodded to Toryn and Hamar. ‘Let’s remind ourselves, shall we? And judging by the disaster of the last drill, I suggest you all listen up.’ He pointed to the foot of the wall. ‘Buckets over there are already filled for such an emergency, so you stand by them if the blighters break through, or one of our own clumsy oafs starts a blaze. Wherever we’re needed, form a chain two-deep. Pass the full buckets down the right, the empties come back on the left.’ He strolled down the line and patted Toryn’s head. ‘You boy, you can work the third pump. Seen one of these before?’

  Toryn nodded. ‘Yes, sir, we have a similar one on the farm.’ Three of the men laughed.

  Elwold winked at Toryn. ‘Elwold will suffice, lad.’ He pointed to the end of the line. ‘You two work the others. The buckets will come back fast, so be ready.’ Elwold groaned as he pushed out his belly to stretch his back. He sat on a stool by the pumps. ‘I’ll direct the operation from here.’ He grinned at Toryn. ‘Don’t look so worried. We suffer at least one raid a week these days, but they rarely make it within bow shot.’

  Hamar grunted. ‘But with four-hundred?’

  Elwold frowned. ‘That many?’ He waved his hand. ‘The lads on the murder holes will thin them out, doesn’t matter how many there are, they can only advance six abreast at most. A few rocks raining down on their thick, scabby heads will make them regret coming this way. And what the rocks don’t take down, the archers will finish off.’

  Another horn blast caught their attention. Elwold beamed. ‘Our lads have sighted the bleeders.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Tell you what, ladies. We’ll head up to the balcony on the barracks where we can watch the start of the show. If the odd one or two make it passed the welcome party, we’ll still have time to man the stations.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Make a change for us to see action. The Drunny Gate usually has all the fun.’ He grinned. ‘Like the old days, eh, Hamar?’

  Toryn’s heart hammered into his ribs as they made their way through the narrow alleys to the barracks. He caught Hamar’s eye. Hamar patted a joist as they ducked beneath. ‘Plenty of firewood around. I hope for our sakes they don’t get too close.’

  Elwold showed them inside and up two flights of rickety stairs. Toryn stepped out onto the balcony. A row of rooftops stood between them and the barricade. Archers lined the battlements on the left and over the ravine. At the main gate, Captain Bulstrow’s red plume stood out from the fifty guards rushing to take their positions. The knot in Toryn’s stomach loosened. Bulstrow’s men did indeed appear a little ragged, but he would not want to square up to them in a fight.

  Elwold nudged Toryn. ‘See up there? They’ll stop them.’ Jutting out from the side of the ravine, thirty men stood ready on a high platform. ‘And see those rocks? Let’s just say, our guests will get a traditional guards’ welcome.’ Elwold slapped Toryn on the back, almost knocking him from the balcony. ‘Here they come! When will they learn, eh? Their arrows won’t leave a scratch on the platform, and they’ll have to weather the storm to get anywhere near our gate.’

  Toryn peered at the dark line slowly making its way along the road. He clenched the rail as he spotted squat Ruuk warriors waving hammers, halberds, and maces above their heads, taunting the soldiers on the platform. The blood left his face. Elwold placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘It might look grim, but they won’t get the chance to use those weapons.’ He pointed to the platform. ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘They’ve got wagons, three of them.’ Hamar squinted at the line. ‘You’d think that would slow them down.’

  Elwold mocked. ‘Well! What a cheek. If they think they’ll be taking plunder back in their carts, they must think again.’

  The man standing next to Toryn leaned on the balcony rail. He gasped. ‘They’re big wagons. Seen none like that before.’

  Elwold laughed. ‘Makes them easier to hit.’ The first dozen ranks had passed beneath the platform. A score of trap doors slung open. ‘Here we go, lads!’ The invaders beneath raised their shields. Elwold shook his fist. ‘Not enough, you blighters.’ A hail of rocks of all sizes scattered the front rows, sending many tumbling over the side. Toryn shuddered as they fell silently as if accepting their death. But Elwold bellowed. ‘That’s just for starters. They may have thick skulls, but they won’t stop—’

  ‘Those aren’t wagons!’ Toryn turned to see the covers open. A ballista emerged with a large bolt protruding from behind a protective shield. He stared wide-eyed as it slowly raised its glistening, metal head.

  Elwold tried to cheer the men. ‘Even if it reaches, it will only make a bigger hole for our lads to drop more rocks on—’ The large arrowhead burst into flames. Elwold roared. ‘By the Three! To the station.’ Toryn froze. But as the guards on the top platform surged forward to destroy the weapon, a blazing bolt shot forth, smashing through the floor under their feet. The wood shattered with a painful crack, sending large splinters in all directions, impaling the light-armored men, rushing to escape. At least six fell. The bolt exploded, spewing fire down the platform, trapping more unfortunate victims. Toryn twisted away as the first burning men toppled off the edge with their arms flapping as they plunged to a horrible death. But the men on the platform had yet to accept defeat. They renewed their efforts and rained down rocks, destroying the first ballista. Toryn held his breath as the remaining two rolled into position, raising their metal noses with disdain to the platform.

  ‘Toryn!’ Hamar held out his hand. ‘You need to man the pump.’ Toryn stumbled forward. ‘Quick, lad, they need us.’

  The horn’s urgent call filled the air as Toryn dodged between the emerging miners collecting weapons from the armory. His eyes darted from one determined face to another, encouraged he found no sign of panic. They reached the pumps. Elwold grabbed the nearest bucket and thrust it to Hamar. ‘No chain, too far to the platform. Here, take this and follow the others, they’ll lead you to the stairs.’ Toryn ran to the pump, but Elwold handed him a bucket. ‘You too, lad. We need as many as we can to douse the platform, and fast. We’ll have to fill on return.’ Toryn took the bucket with the sight of the burning men falling from the ledge still in his mind. He gripped the handle and turned to follow Hamar.

  Shouts from the barricade drew his attention as the archers released their first volley at the invaders. His spirit lifted, but plummeted as he spied the stairs. The open steps led over the top of the barricade and c
limbed steeply up to the platform. As he took the first step, the structure groaned and buckled under his feet. The men on the stairs above cried out. Hamar yelled back. ‘Another bolt has hit.’ Toryn hesitated as the stairway shook. ‘And a third!’ Toryn fumbled with his bucket as he grabbed the rope to his left. He glanced up as another man tumbled to his doom. Thick, black smoke billowed into Toryn’s face, stinging his eyes and filling his nose and throat. He blinked away hot tears and tried to spit. But his dry mouth failed to rid him of the bitter taste of burning wood… and flesh.

  Hamar called back. ‘Keep your eyes down. Be sure of your step, keep going.’ The first of their fire duty crossed them on the stairs. With wide, white eyes glistening from their grim and blackened faces, they hurried back to refill their buckets. Toryn took another step. He knew his duty, and right now, the water in his bucket was worth more to the defense of the mines than the sword in his belt.

  He reached the top. A guard engulfed in violent flames, stumbled towards them thrashing his arms in pain. Toryn pulled back his bucket, ready to drench the poor soul, but the man behind stayed his arm. He yelled. ‘He’s done for. Water’s for the wood.’ The burning soldier staggered to the edge and threw himself over. Toryn turned back to the front and into the heat, scorching his eyeballs.

  The platform tilted and crackled. Hamar cried out. ‘Back! It’s going to collapse.’ Toryn slung the water towards the nearest flames and span around. He lurched forward, away from the weight of the blaze bearing down on his neck and shoulders. He squinted through his streaming eyes, desperate to find the steps. Choking, he called out. ‘Hamar?’

  ‘Behind you, lad. But I can’t see.’

  ‘Take my arm.’ He felt Hamar’s firm grip. ‘First step coming up.’ Men tumbled and reeled along the swaying stairway, but thankfully kept their footing. Shouts from the barricade rose as the wood splintered along its length, hurtling towards them, threatening to throw them clear. Toryn jumped onto the barricade, dragging Hamar with him as the stairway twisted from beneath him. He turned. The invaders had slung chains around two flaming struts. One had splintered; the second looked ready to break. The section above the first strut lost the battle and collapsed, sending flaming planks flipping and spinning like sycamore seeds falling from the tree. With horrifying speed, the rest of the platform succumbed, ending the agony of the few unfortunate men fighting the fury of the fire.

  Throaty cheers from the victors below drowned out the dying screams of their victims. Toryn collapsed, gasping for clean air in the cloying smoke. He coughed hard as men stumbled over him to safety. Hamar grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up. ‘We have to get off the barricade. They’ll be here in minutes.’ Toryn nodded and together they hobbled down the last part of the steps still standing. At the bottom, rows of stern-faced miners clutching swords, axes and hammers greeted them. One nodded to Toryn. ‘Nice try, lad. Now leave them to us.’

  Hamar mumbled in Toryn’s ear. ‘I hope they can fight as mean as they look.’ They passed the reserves to find Elwold slumping on the stool by the pumps.

  He stood, gasping for breath. ‘Form a line, lads.’ Elwold’s face paled as he counted the returning duty. ‘Six lost. That’s not good.’ He lifted his head and tried to raise his voice. ‘Quench your thirst, wash the grime from your eyes, then same as before. This could get a tad perilous from now on, so stay on your toes.’

  Toryn took his place at the pump and filled a calf skin to be passed down the line. Elwold patting his shoulder. ‘Don’t forget yourself, young man.’ Toryn stuck his head under the pump and ran the cold water over his head and down his neck and back. He cupped his hands and splashed his face and drank as a horn sounded on the barricade.

  ‘To your posts!’ Elwold patted the first man on his back. ‘Buckets to the pumps. They must’ve cleared the road and are advancing.’

  Toryn's shoulders burned as he worked the handle, but he clenched his jaw and refused to rest. Each man placed their bucket on the floor, nodding grimly to Toryn as they picked them up. He made a note of their dogged faces and wondered how many would return. If the marauders could destroy the platform so quickly, what chance did they have? And how would it end? Toryn’s throat tightened at the dread of dying in a ball of flames, but having his skull caved in by a mace appealed even less. He clenched the handle of his sword. Toryn could hold his own against most of the boys of Midwyche, but they sparred with wooden weapons, and he had never got the better of Elrik. He thought of his friend. Elrik would have passed into Kernlow over a week ago and be strolling in the sunshine through the vineyards of Gwelayn; he dearly wished he could be at his side. Toryn hoped Elrik did not think worse of him for absconding. He managed a wry smile. If Elrik could see him now, standing in line waiting to defend the vital mines of Drunsberg.

  ‘Loose!’ Toryn looked up to the barricade. A volley of arrows flew from the wall, but surely too few to halt the enemy advance.

  Shouts at the gate. ‘Ram!’ Captain Bulstrow waved frantically. ‘Back to the gate!’ Guardsmen left their posts on the wall to rush to their captain’s side as they lifted large struts to bolster the wood. The miners edged forward, but their leader held them firm.

  Toryn called to Elwold. ‘Why don’t they sling their fire at the barricade?’

  Elwold pointed. ‘Take a guess. One strike and the whole town would go up. No, they don’t want to destroy the place, they want it for themselves. This isn’t a raid. It’s a full-blown attack and they intend to wipe us out and keep the town.’ More men ran to the gate carrying thick planks. But they were too late. With the crack of breaking bone, the gate shattered as the head of the ram burst through, throwing many of the defenders clear. The miners in reserve braced. Elwold put his bucket down. ‘We won’t be needing these from now on. Draw your swords, lads, and may the Three be with you.’

  21. a Shattered Sword

  Toryn tightened his grip on his sword. But what could he possibly do against the battle-hardened marauders of the north? He had grown up tending the land and repairing fences, while the Ruuk had been fighting since big enough to hold a weapon. The weak died first, leaving the best fighters to lead the raids. Toryn had suffered only the odd bruise and splinter in combat practice with their crudely made wooden swords; the warriors about to burst through the barricade would have recovered from far worse.

  ‘Stick close to me, lad.’ Hamar’s eyes widened as the first raider through the gate fell with an arrow in his eye. ‘Keep your stance wide and aim for the gaps in whatever stolen armor they’re wearing.’ Hamar seemed to coach himself as much as Toryn. ‘Don’t swing, there won’t be space. Thrust, twist and pull back. They’re brutes; strong, with thick, tough skin, but nothing you can’t handle.’ Toryn watched in horror as more squat and sturdy raiders smashed their way through the gate. Another volley of arrows found targets, but not enough to thin the numbers pouring through the gap.

  Hamar spoke fast. ‘Necks, armpits or groin. You don’t have to kill them, just bring them down, make it harder for those behind to join in. Remember, thrust, twist, pull back.’ He mimicked the move. ‘Thrust, twist, pull back.’ Hamar clicked his fingers as if remembering. ‘And be wary if there are Norgog among them, the short ones. Can’t say I saw any in their ranks earlier, but be wary all the same. Armpits only for them, softest part. They barely have a neck, and you’d have to stoop to strike the groin.’ He paced on the spot, repeating his advice. ‘Short and wide, target the armpits.’

  The last remnants of the gate shattered and collapsed. Dozens of jubilant raiders cried out as they burst forth like water through a breached dam. The Drunsberg guards surged forward to stem the flow, but they numbered too few to hold fast. Toryn’s insides churned. The guttural roar of the attackers rose as they forced the defenders back, step by step. Men and Ruuk died. Toryn’s throat closed against the rising bile. Halberds slammed down onto old helmets and armor, cracking skulls and severing limbs. It looked nothing like the great battles of legends. No heroes, no acts of brave
ry, no masterful one-to-one combat, just a mass brawl of jabbing, slashing and gouging of anything within reach. This was chaotic slaughter, but a slaughter the driven raiders were prepared to wage regardless of losses. Men fell, to be trampled under the feet of friend and foe. No dying in the arms of comrades with last words of comfort and forgiveness, you died where you fell; you died alone.

  Toryn kept his eyes fixed on the red plume of Captain Bulstrow, pinning his hopes on a victory while the Ox still fought. The captain held his ground in the center of the melee. His bloodied sword rose and fell with a ferocity that shocked Toryn. The big man bellowed his challenge to any who came near, quickly dispatching those who dared to accept. But the enemy’s heavy weapons and superior numbers matched whatever the defenders could muster. Toryn struggled to breathe as the attackers bludgeoned their way through thinning ranks to surround the captain. But if Drunsberg’s best fighters fell, how could the miners and bucket carriers survive?

  ‘Ox is down!’ Elwold yelled. ‘Stand ready, lads.’ Toryn searched for the red plume, but it had gone. He stared aghast as a dozen raiders leaped forward and rained down blows on the spot their injured leader had fallen. His fellow guards fought hard to reach him, but they fought in vain. A cry went up. A large raider raised the trophy of the cleaved helmet of the captain high. Toryn twisted away in disgust as he could see Ox still wore it upon his head.

  The commander of the reserve thrust his hammer into the air. ‘Forward miners!’ Close to a hundred miners rushed the enemy. Toryn’s spirit lifted as the miners’ impact pushed back the onslaught. Their picks and hammers slammed down onto their targets, crushing the Ruuk front ranks under blows with the strength to splinter solid rock. But the momentum faltered as the masses flooding through the gate, forced their dead into the miners. More surged up the steps to the barricade, taking down the remaining archers and tossing them into the ravine. The miners fell back.